


Thrice Defied

by blahblahwoofwoof



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6021367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahblahwoofwoof/pseuds/blahblahwoofwoof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Defiance comes in many forms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thrice Defied

Narcissa Malfoy was born to be a mother.

Which is not to say that she’d spent her life dreaming of starting a family, squealing over baby clothes or planning the nursery down to the last little blue unicorn. Neither did it mean that she, now heavily pregnant with her first child, spent hours in the nursery filled with the ecstatic joy of impending motherhood.

No, Narcissa was born to be a mother because she’d been born a daughter of that most noble house; the great and dignified House of Black. Hence her soul purpose of existence was to continue that line by breeding with another suitable pure-blood male.

Which was why it had been somewhat surprising to Narcissa to find that, despite this cold-blooded approach to the wondrous act of creating life, she was indeed born to be a mother: the doe-eyed, glowing, filled with the joy of impending motherhood kind.

Even those who knew Narcissa best would have been surprised at this change, would have had trouble believing the profound and over-powering love (yes, love!) she felt for the child growing within her.

But even those who thought they knew Narcissa best, knew her not at all. Not because she kept true self hidden, or because she locked away her passions behind a frozen mask. Really it was because there was nothing to know. Quiet, pragmatic and dutiful (above all dutiful) Narcissa was the quintessential pure-blooded woman: passionless, polite, acquiescent and a willing companion for her lord and master. Like a flat, dull mirror she reflected the interests and passions of those around her, empty of her own thoughts and desires. And, until now, empty of love.

Maybe it hadn’t always been this way, but she had learnt this lesson of thinking little and feeling less at an early age. It had been that little boy who had taught her- and he who had also been her first defiance.

 

* * *

 

Being the youngest in such a family had always been difficult- made more so by a sister who flouted the Black family tradition from the moment she learned to speak. And one whose actions had caused the increased scrutiny of her sisters’ behaviour as a consequence. It had not been surprising when she had eloped with that mudblood, but it brought some relief in that she was never spoken or thought of again.

Learning from her sister’s example, Bellatrix sought her parents’ approval by exerting every muscle and breath to live up to the Black name. Narcissa could never be sure if Bellatrix had always been insane and this had fuelled her quest, or vice versa. Either way the result was an older sister who was a tyrant, whose chief entertainment was the continual and unrelenting torture of Narcissa.

“Give it back!”

Her second day at Hogwarts, and already it had begun. Seated at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall she’d been trying to prepare for her first lesson by reading about asphodel and wormwood. Bellatrix, sauntering into the Hall surrounded by a mob of loud and noisy friends, had snatched the text book away from her, keeping it out of reach. It was not so much that she wanted the book, but more Bella’s casual disregard as she laconically tossed the book down the table. It had goaded Narcissa into her outburst, and she blushed furiously, surreptitiously checking to see if anyone else was watching her humiliation.

Only one small dark-haired boy was watching her. They shared a look, and with it mutual sense of understanding: he knew how she felt. As she settled into life at Hogwarts she began to see why. This little boy, this runt who seemed years younger than he was, this concentrated ball of fury, he had tormentors of his own. The Gryffindor gang taunted him constantly, but he was on the receiving end of many in-house barbs as well. And each time he reacted- Narcissa could see that he couldn’t help it. From watching him fail to keep his countenance time and time again she learnt that first lesson: the predators can’t touch you if you’re not there. It was then that she began to cultivate that cool, passive and impregnable mask. Until it wasn’t a mask anymore; it was her.

Years later he taught her a second lesson- and was the instrument of her first defiance. Narcissa Malfoy, pure-blooded innocent, future virgin-bride gave away her maidenhood to a half-blood nobody. A small and almost pointless rebellion as she took pains to make sure no-one knew, but a defiance nonetheless. And it was there, pressed against the glass of Greenhouse Three, air heavy with their laboured breathing, that she learnt the power of a name.

“Severus”.

Barely audible, it had escaped her lips, drawn by his clumsy ministrations and the small thrill she felt in this defiant act. An unintended utterance from her, inconsequential and meaningless. But for him… she felt him shudder and cry out as he spent himself inside her and she saw, saw so clearly it took her breath away, how completely and utterly she owned him. With just one word.

Later, when she met the Dark Lord, she understood immediately why it was forbidden to name him directly- he too knew the power of names and wanted no one to own him.

 

* * *

 

It was impossible to say when she first realised that she loved her baby- there was no sudden rush of love when she felt the first kick, no revelation of emotion when she first learned she was with child. Indeed, there had only been a slight sense of pride and accomplishment- one that was further embellished when it was determined that the child would be a male heir. That news had certainly increased her stock with Lucius, who began to fete her around in social circles with the same cold pride that he had when she’d first become his wife at seventeen.

No, it had been a gradual thing. Her love for this child that she’d never seen, never held in her arms. It had bloomed within her as slowly and gradually as her belly swelled. Grew until she thought it would consume her- this emotion, this love, this feeling, so beyond anything she’d ever felt before. This blessing- and this curse, for with it came worry. The Dark Lord was sending Lucius to do his bidding more and more often, and while she was pleased at her husband’s increasing power, she was gripped by the fear that one night he would not return, and that she and her baby boy would be left utterly alone.

So when the Dark Lord had asked Lucius to spy on Dumbledore, it had filled Narcissa with deep dread. Knowing that even the Dark Lord feared the old headmaster she cast about for a way to keep their family safe.

“Send Severus”.

She felt again that thrill of defiance as she manipulated her husband into colluding with her old lover to defy their lord and master. Why not send Severus to do this for you she asked- why should you have to visit a disgusting tavern, you know Severus would do anything for you, he is your protégée. Each question, laconically and blandly asked, coercing him to do her will.

And Severus had done it. And returned dishevelled and distraught, full of prophecies that foretold the Dark Lord’s defeat.

And then she’d learned what terror truly was.

 

* * *

 

Narcissa had never put much stock in prophecies- crystal balls, tea leaves and faded tarot cards held no interest for her. Perhaps it had been because she’d known precisely what her future held ever since she was a little girl. Certainly this prophecy (from the mouth of a mad old pathetic bat) didn’t disturb her or her unwavering belief in the Dark Lord at all.

But from what Lucius had told her, this was not the case for the Dark Lord. And she got to see this first hand when she met him a few days later. He’d very regally inclined his head to acknowledge her and then his eyes had slid down to her belly, now well-rounded at eight months.

As if she had suddenly become a master legilimens Narcissa knew precisely what the Dark Lord was thinking. An obscure muggle legend rose into her mind, of Herod slaying all the innocent babes of Bethlehem in an attempt to murder the child Jesus, prophesised King of the Jews.

As the Dark Lord raised his eyes to hers Narcissa summoned every ounce of composure and equanimity that the noble House of Black had ever instilled in her and wiped all these thoughts from her mind. After a lifetime of acquiescence it was an action that echoed down to the very depths of her soul. When the Dark Lord looked into her eyes and searched her mind he found only a willing servant: an instrument of his power with no will of its own. And no thoughts of defying it’s master’s will.

But she knew. And now she knew terror. Even though her child was due in only a few weeks (at the end of the sixth month, not the seventh specified in the prophecy) the Dark Lord’s lust for power was matched only by his overwhelming paranoia. After the Potter child was dead, after the Longbottom child was dead, it wouldn’t end there. It would never end.

 

* * *

 

“No.”

It was odd how you never thought about the lives of some people- what they ate, where they slept, where they lived. The sort of people you forget about once they’ve left a room, or never wonder about where they’ve come from when they enter it. If Narcissa had speculated she never would have imagined this, yet in some ways it suited him perfectly. The neat order, the modest furniture, the walls of books all spoke his name to her- but the muggle location and the evident poverty of the area seemed things he would want to distance himself from.

“No, he wouldn’t. The Dark Lord wouldn’t do that. Not to you, Narcissa.”

When he spoke her name he said it hesitantly, almost as a question or as if he were seeking approval to use it. He knew the power of a name, but was afraid to use it. But she wasn’t.

“Lucius wouldn’t allow it, Narcissa- he’d prevent the Dark Lord from killing his only child, from killing you.”

“Severus.”

She merely uttered his name, but again it spoke volumes more than just the word. Weariness at his refusal to accept what they both knew what was true: that Voldemort would murder her now in the off-chance that her child was born late, born when the seventh month waxed rather than waned, and that Lucius would do nothing about it.

“Severus, please.”

And now a plea. Two words saying much more. I came to you. Only you can help me defy him. Looking into his eyes she saw his acquiescence.

“Very well. It will take me a day to brew it. I will bring it to you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you Severus. Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

He brought it to her the next day, standing awkwardly in the nursery amongst the blue unicorns while she rocked herself gently in the rocking chair, torn between joy, relief and terror.

He placed the bottle on the dresser, hand lingering over it momentarily as if he was afraid to let it go.

“The… contractions should start within minutes of drinking it. Narcissa…”

Again her name from his lips, this time as a plea.

“This potion…it could kill you… it could kill your baby… are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Severus. Thank you.”

He faded from the room and, like always, she forgot about him as soon as he left. Rocking gently back and forth she smiled to herself and sighed. Narcissa put her hand on her belly and whispered to the child who was about to join the world.

“Your birthday will be June the fifth.”

Then she stood, picked up the potion, and drank it.

**Author's Note:**

> Way back when we were all waiting with bated breath for the release of Deathly Hallows, one part of my fevered mind wondered: what if Voldemort had killed Harry? Would he then have decided to kill Neville, just to be on the safe side? Would he have stopped there? Or would he have been a modern day Herod?
> 
> Then Draco popped into my mind. Would Voldemort have killed him? Most assuredly. Would Lucius have tried to stop him? Probably not- there's a man who cares for himself before anyone in the world. Would Narcissa have tried to stop him? We've seen how much she cares for him during Harry's era, we saw her beg Snape to protect him in HBP- we know she would do anything to save her son. She's almost an anomaly amongst all the Death Eaters. Her situation in HBP even evokes thoughts of Lilly begging Voldemort to spare her son. 
> 
> The more I thought about this, the more there seemed to be connections with the canon- Draco is born in early June, Harry late July. The chapter at Spinner's End sends a clear message that there is or was *something* between Snape and Narcissa- what if this was the second time Narcissa had asked him to defy Voldemort and save her son? What would compel him to help her, unless they shared some kind of bond at school? Is this why Snape so favours Draco- because he helped bring him into this world?
> 
> Of course, it's completely scuppered by dates in canon - the Lexicon says that Narcissa is only a year younger than Lucius and that Snape is five years younger than her. In my imagining Lucius is much older (I can picture very clearly the pure-blooded Lucius wanting a virgin almost-child bride years younger than him) and I see Snape as younger than Lucius, older in years than Narcissa, but very much the tiny runt, so he always seems younger than everyone else. And I don't think the timing of the prophecy's revelation quite works... but I don't care - I like these ideas so much, they're canon in my head now! :-)


End file.
